


Keep Me Humming

by Barkour



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Mouth Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's toothy smile just does things to Toothiana, awful, sugar-rotten things. And the most awful, sugar-rotten thing about it is he doesn't even mean to do it. Doesn't he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Me Humming

**Author's Note:**

> For Karisa, who hasn't even seen this movie, but encouraged me on Twitter last night mostly by laughing at me. Thanks, K.

Little Summer Song lighted on Toothiana’s shoulder and chirped her message out: Jack Frost had come to the Palace.

“Oh!” said Toothiana. She spilled three teeth; they fell from the scale, and she said “Oh!” again, like a curse. Little Summer Song, swooning against Toothiana’s neck, agreed. Jack Frost had that effect on her girls, even the oldest and most experienced of them, as if they were all of them simply unable to deal with the crooked imperfection of his smile. That just would not do. It wouldn’t do at all. Little Summer Song crooned.

“Now don’t embarrass yourself,” Toothiana said sternly to Little Summer Song, who was sighing and rubbing her teensy face all along Tooth’s feathers, “it’s only Jack after all. You have to be professional, for the sake of the corps.”

Oh, but he was so _handsome_ , Little Summer Song wheedled, so handsome and so very _sweet_ , sweet as sugar-rot in the root of a tooth. Handsome and sweet and oh, that _smile_ \--

“That’s enough of that!” said Toothiana. She knew exactly what his smile looked like, and she didn’t mean to think of it another moment. “You go take a bath, before your feathers fry off. Look at you! All ruffled up like that!”

Little Summer Song covered her face with her tiny hands and flittered away, round as a ball with her feathers sticking out as they did. She was still singing dreamily as she went. Who was Jack Frost to get Tooth’s girls all worked up! Toothiana smoothed her hands over her little breast, reminding her own feathers to stay right they were, sleek and neat and not at all at odds with the mature and solicitous image she tried so to maintain. Her heart flit-flitted away though and no amount of preening could get it to stop thrumming, faster even than her wings. Her wings!

“Oh, drat,” Toothiana sighed. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on Little Summer Song.”

Jack Frost! The _fiend_. Certainly it wasn’t her little girl’s fault Jack’s smile was fine as fresh snow, as sharp as the winter’s first frost and laced with silver besides. He’d an offset canine tooth on the right at the top, tucked in slightly behind the incisor before it and sticking out at odds with the premolar behind it. Just _thinking_ of that lovely twisted thing made Tooth’s feathers puff out; her hips wanted to sway, her tail to go wide, and even if Jack didn’t know what that meant, Tooth did, and oh, oh, it was just so _mortifying_ to think for all her centuries she couldn’t hold it together when his ice-blue lips parted in that awful, horrible, _beautiful_ lopsided smile and his teeth came out to play. And he didn’t even know what he did when he smiled like that!

“Stop it right now!” Tooth said to Tooth. “This is not becoming! You are a professional! You’d think you’ve never seen a boy with such healthy gums before.” But oh, they were so _pale_ , his gums, so pale but so firm, too, and no! She slapped her cheeks. No! Jack Frost was her co-worker, her fellow guardian, and anyway, she had so much to do. What a silly girl to sit up in the golden branches of her golden tree thinking of his smile!

Warm Breeze Off The Southern Sea flew up between the boughs and sang to her queen that Jack Frost wondered if she was all right and did she want him to come up to see her? Warm Breeze Off The Southern Sea’s sister, Red Autumn Fruit, sang a counterpoint, Jack Frost is here, Jack Frost is here.

“Oh, no!” said Tooth. “I’ll be right down! Just give me a moment, please, girls, don’t you have something else to do? Really!”

Not at all, hummed Red Autumn Fruit. Toothiana ran a tight ship. All their sisters were out fetching teeth or cataloguing them as they ought to, and anyway, Jack was most anxious to see the queen their mother. Red Autumn Fruit groomed Tooth’s cheek, settling her feathers.

He has a tooth with him, added Warm Breeze Off The Southern Sea. A tooth in his hand.

“A tooth!” Toothiana’s wings spread violently. “Why does he have a tooth?” 

Trouble! Oh, dear! And how had she missed it, if a child had lost a tooth? This wasn’t good at _all_ ; some twisted thing must be afoot, and to think it had slipped past Toothiana! Rage filled her breast. She puffed up.

“Girls,” she said primly, “be sure to let me know _immediately_ if anything strange comes up on the scales,” and then she flew clean as an arrow between the boughs, down to the bottom of the tree where Jack Frost, cold and sweet, waited at the edge of the old lake.

He looked up to her as she called his name. Tiny, delicate snowflakes dotted his frost-white cheeks. The scent of ice, of chilled waters and pine trees with their branches weighted down, washed over her. Oh, it _must_ be something bad if Jack were to come to Toothiana’s palace, for the tropical heat did wear on him, she thought, remembering how flushed he had seemed the last he’d visited her, and Jack being-- _Jack_ , the son of snowfall and dark forests, for his face to go red he must have been very hot indeed.

“What is it?” she called. “Is it Pitch? Did he escape?”

“What?” asked Jack, and he smiled, bemused, at Tooth as she landed light on her toes. When he smiled—those cold lips curling—she forgot Pitch entirely and gasped.

“ _Jack!_ ” she said, scandalized. “Your _tooth!_ ”

He’d a hole in the row of his bottom teeth, one of his beautiful incisors simply _gone_. The pale flesh of his gum reddened there, nearly as feverish as any child’s when a tooth came out.

“Yeah,” he said. “I kind of got into it with Bunny again.”

“That jack-rabbit!” said Tooth, unthinking.

Jack laughed. “Well—it’s not really his fault. Entirely his fault. But man—” He rubbed at his jaw, his long, frosted fingers cradling that smooth expanse of skin. “That guy does not pull his kicks.”

She sighed and reached to cup his jaw in her hands. “Oh, Jack. What did you do now?”

“Why do you think I did anything?” he protested. “It’s not my fault he can’t take a joke.”

The last time he’d visited Toothiana in her little valley, Jack had been in high spirits: laughing, dripping snow all over the grass, very pleased with himself and wanting Tooth to be pleased, too. He’d done something awful to Bunny’s warren—what it was, she couldn’t recall now, though she had _tried_ to scold Jack for it—and he’d got out by the skin of his nose before Bunny took his nose from him.

What had Jack done? She remembered very clearly what he did when she greeted him. He’d caught her hands in his—he’d held her fingers to his chest, his chest so bitterly chill the shock had run all the way through her—and then he’d gone dancing, whirling, out over the waters with her hands still at his breast and his smile as white as the crystalline fractals formed beneath his bare feet on the lake. She’d tried to be serious, she really had, but his blue eyes had creased at the corners when he smiled at her, and Tooth had danced with him, her legs bent in the air, her toes curled. The high hum of her wings, that was the music they’d danced to.

“But why did you do it?” she’d giggled, not meaning to giggle—poor Bunny!

Perhaps Jack hadn’t understood, or perhaps he hadn’t heard her over the drumming of her heart. Goodness, it was so loud; she thought everyone could hear it.

“I wanted to see you!” he’d shouted, and then he’d let go of one of her hands and put his hand at her tiny waist and drew her against him.

Now his blue eyes were turned up to the sky. Her fingers were dark on his jaw.

“May I?”

“Sure,” he said. His lips were parted. His mouth was open to her.

Very tenderly she slipped just the one finger in to test the gum where he’d no tooth. She heard his breath catch. A fine tremor worked along his jaw, under her hand.

“Be still, please,” she admonished. The corner of his mouth turned up. His lip was dry against the underside of her finger.

“How bad is it?”

“Be still means don’t talk.”

He hummed a little and then—when Tooth looked at him—he stopped that too. The smile still teased. Jack was forever smiling at her, as if he just didn’t know what all those gorgeous teeth did to her. His gum was warm and very sensitive, and his breath caught again. Her own breath was, she thought with some pride, remarkably steady. Very appropriate. A little hardness under the gum refused to give.

“I think you’ll be all right,” said Toothiana, absent and light. “A new tooth is coming in.” She traced the shape of it with the tip of her claw. If she kept her finger there she thought she might feel the tooth growing up from his mandible. “How interesting! It must be because you’re a guardian. When Bunny broke his leg a few hundred years ago, it healed up again in a few hours.”

She slid her finger from his mouth but her other hand she kept at his jaw. His skin felt cool to her, but his face was very lightly flushed. She supposed he always felt cool to her, even when he was over-hot.

“Well, that’s good news,” said Jack. He was looking at her in that same way he had a month ago, when they’d stopped dancing and he’d pulled her to him and then his snow-bit eyelashes had dropped over his eyes. “I’d hate to lose my charming smile.”

They’d stopped dancing, yes, on the lake with thin ice kissing his toes, and her hands had come to rest on his shoulders. His blue eyes closed. His top teeth, the incisors, bit his lower lip and then his lips had parted for her. She’d looked down at him, across those scant few inches between them, at Jack with a laugh in his fine face, and she had wanted—oh, she had wanted so very _badly_ —to lean forward over that burning distance and slide her long, long tongue between those frozen lips and taste every one of his teeth. Toothiana had wondered if his canines would be sweetest, like the flavored ice he brought her once, or if his molars—hidden from her even when he smiled—would be that.

“You’re very full of yourself, Jack,” said Toothiana, her chin high.

His canine caught in his lip. The curl of his mouth was a soft winter’s song.

“You don’t think my smile’s charming?”

“I think,” said Toothiana, “that you think too much about your teeth.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I haven’t thought about my teeth in years.”

“Well!” said Toothiana, “I guess if my teeth looked like yours I’d have gotten used to them too,” and then she’d turned her lips in and bit down on them. Silly! Unprofessional! Behavior not at all becoming of a guardian!

He squinted, one eye closing. His mouth screwed up. She never should have touched his gum. Now she wanted to peel his lips apart and slip her finger in again. Oh, spit and sugar!

“Hey,” he said. “I want to make sure I got this right.”

The corners of his mouth began to turn. A long, sly line of tooth showed.

“You like my smile,” he said. “You like my teeth.”

She slapped his shoulder. “You don’t have to say it out loud!”

“I want to say it out loud,” Jack said. He took a step closer to her, a step up on a little shelf of north wind so his nose was level with her chin. “I like saying it out loud. You _do_ like my teeth?”

“Of course I do,” she grouched—really! Did he have to! “They’re so lovely and so white, like—”

“Fresh fallen snow,” he said. He was still smiling. The very tip of the new tooth—that ragged line of enamel—peeked through the swollen mess of his gum. “I remember. You said that the first time we met. My teeth sparkle like fresh fallen snow.”

Toothiana covered her face. “Why do you remember that? That was just so—so _awful_ of me.”

His fingers were at her elbow. His hand smoothed up her arm to her shoulder, ruffling the feathers back in such a, a _delicious_ way that she shouldn’t have liked at all what with how it pricked at her and how she’d have to get them all back into place later, and yet oh, the little chill seeping between her feathers to nestle on her skin!

“It was nice,” said Jack, in his warm voice, his hot cocoa by the fire voice. “I liked it when you said that. Nobody’s ever said something like that about my teeth before.”

“Nobody!” She looked up from her fingers, appalled. “Never? When they’re so beautiful! Do you know I’ve seen just about every tooth in the whole world and no one’s ever had teeth like yours?”

He was looking at her, oh, how he _looked_ at her. When she’d pulled out of his hands that day on the ice—flown back only because she had known, with devastating clarity, that if she let him hold her like that one more moment she was going to just _devour_ Jack—he’d opened his eyes and his face had been so red and he’d looked at her with his eyes as cool and as still as a river in deep winter. Now Jack looked at her like she was something shining. His smile sharpened.

“You’re the first,” he said. “No one else but you, Tooth.”

Her darn heart was drumming again, nearly as quickly as her wings. Jack’s fingers stroked her nape, petting the soft feathers there. He didn’t mean to send snow pooling down in her gut, and yet—those long chilling fingers of his—

Toothiana reached for him. Her hands slid, again, along his jaw on either side. Her fingertips settled behind his ears.

“Can I?” she asked. “Please? I just want to touch them a little bit. I promise to be very gentle. I won’t pull at all.”

He laughed again, crackling like wood in a fire. The blue of his eyes pierced her. The cold in her breast was so fierce she could hardly breathe for it.

“Sure,” he said, “but only if you promise.”

His lips were still so dry, so cool. She rubbed her thumb along the swell of his bottom lip. Jack’s eyelashes dropped, casting snowflakes over his cheeks, against her wrists, down to melt in the grass. He ran his tongue behind his teeth, lingering a moment at the gap. 

Gently—she’d promised—she slipped her finger between his lips. The tips of his front teeth were smooth on top but so faintly jagged below, shaped for sawing. Stroking her fingertip over those little incisors, mindful of the gap, Toothiana bit her own lip. The tiny, downy feathers on the back of her finger ruffled. How _finely_ his teeth pricked her. She leaned forward, pressing her nose to his cheek, and she heard Jack’s swallow. 

His hand slid from her nape; it settled on her hip. Her wings hummed. His breath frosted her ear. Chastely she kissed the little lobe of his ear, and she got another finger in his mouth. With the first finger she petted his tongue, once down the middle of it. Jack sighed around her fingers and his teeth closed lightly on her fingertips, only a moment.

“Do that again,” Toothiana murmured into his ear.

She felt his smile against her thumb. Again he nipped her, and she dragged her fingers up his gums to the front again, so she could slip them deep once more. She kissed his cheek, near his ear, and then closer to his nose. His eyelashes were translucent. Exquisitely itsy-bitsy snowflakes dotted his cheeks like freckles. She wanted to eat them, so—he’d wound his tongue around her fingers—she licked his cheek.

“Tooth,” said Jack, crackling again. 

His fingers dug into her hip, displacing feathers. She wiggled closer and did it again, licking the other cheek. Her tongue, so much longer and thinner than Jack’s, twined. The crisp scent of new ice was brittle in her throat. She swallowed—her mouth was so dry with the taste of winter—and she bent to kiss his cold mouth. Her fingertips trickled, one-two, over his molars. His dry lips dragged between hers. 

She flicked her tongue at his lip, and Jack said, “Tooth—please—it’s okay—” and his hand, flat at the small of her back now, pulled her to him. So she slicked her tongue between his teeth. His head fell back. The snow-white expanse of his throat showed. She closed her eyes; she couldn’t bear the gleaming sight of it, so exposed to her.

His teeth _were_ sweet. She’d known they would be and they were, so very sweet her tongue curled with it. Toothiana caressed the right central incisor at top and then the incisor right of that. She lingered, teasing his tight gums so he made that gasping noise again, rough and brutally cold. The bite in the air thickened. Encouraged, she toyed with his canine, and _oh_ , his premolars, so thick and his molars even thicker. Her wings blurred; she coiled her toes so tightly they pinched. Jack was swaying with her—had she started to sway?—and as she played with his tongue, he moved with her in wondering circles, his hand steady on her back.

“You taste _wonderful_ ,” she sighed into his darling mouth. “So sweet. Just like sugar-ice. You just don’t know how beautiful your teeth are.”

He swallowed again. “I’m starting to get an idea.”

“It’s just not fair.” She licked the roof of his mouth, savoring the ridges of his hard palate. “You flash them everywhere, and I don’t know how I stand it.”

His lips closed around her fingers, her tongue. His teeth were sharp, his own tongue rolling. When he spoke again, muffled, he said, “You should talk. You look like a rainbow.” He palmed her back, his fingers dangerously near to her tail, oh, oh. Her tail feathers fanned.

“A rainbow?” She flicked his lip, drawing back to tease those delightfully cool lips of his. “What’s so wonderful about a rainbow? They’re everywhere here.”

“Winter’s not exactly the most colorful time of the year,” Jack said. Her fingers were at the corner of his mouth. “And then you’re flying around—you know, I saw you once before we met, a century ago maybe, and you looked like—a Christmas tree or summer, I don’t know.”

She wriggled closer and unfolded one of her legs, only so she could rest her toes on his calf. “Oh, Jack,” she said, “that’s the sweetest thing—that’s such an adorable thought—”

“Adorable! What’s adorable—”

“You are,” Toothiana sighed happily, and she swallowed whatever he meant to say next with her tongue. 

His mouth was so lush, so frigid, his teeth so sharp and so much like candy that she tightened all over, just knowing he would let her taste him. She loved that snowy mouth of Jack’s with her fingers, her tongue, her own little breaths. The spot where his new tooth was slowly erupting from the gum tasted of copper, raw and bloody. Her gut tightened. Her legs tightened. He was just so _tasty_ , so tasty and so open, so loose under her ministrations. She toyed with his tongue and drank the ice from him. Like falling into a bank of powdery snow. Toothiana just wanted to swallow all of him. She wanted his fingers to dig under her feathers.

She arched under his hand—her wings paused a beat, and she sank just a bit against him—and Jack smiled against her. His hand moved. His thumb scraped over her feathers. Fingers slid under them. She felt his nails bite her skin at the small of her back, over her tail. Pressing back into his hand she coiled her tongue around his and hummed his name.

He’d carried her out onto the lake. Snow drifted around them, fat, wet flurries that gathered on the thickening ice under foot. Jack sucked on her fingers and tipped his head back further still, his face turned so she had to chase his mouth. He was trembling against her, as if the heat were too much for him. She was shivering, too, but oh, she didn’t mind that in the slightest, not when Jack opened for her to slip a third finger in, not when he groaned as she stroked her fingers in and out again, again, again. She wanted more of the cold. She wanted to feel it chewing on her toes.

He took another step; she rubbed him, following, and then Jack wrapped both his arms around her waist, under her wings, and carried her down with him. Snow pillowed their fall; it melted beneath her wings, under her back. She pulled her fingers from him and wound her hands in his silver hair and filled him with her tongue, tasting everything he had to give her. Jack’s breath was ragged; he was red-faced, or as red as he ever got, and he kissed her as she kissed him. His fingernails scratched lines under her feathers, freezing, numbing lines that made her want to wriggle under his clothes, under his skin. He made her want to curl up in his sublime mouth; he made her want to twine around each of his ravishing teeth.

Oh, she thought, I hope the girls aren’t watching—but she didn’t look for any of them. Jack’s breath had quickened. She was so very cold and so very tight, and the sumptuous tang of his teeth, that little garnish of blood amidst that sweetness, that icy crispness, oh, he was so much more appetizing, so much more _nectarous_ than she had allowed herself to fantasize. Urgently she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him as close to her as she could manage; she drove her tongue into him, savoring _everything_. He moaned into her mouth and she heard the ice crack; she heard the wind howl, felt the snow driving against her, and she wrapped the tip of her tongue around his new tooth, not yet fully up, and sucked.

Winter closed around her. Jack’s fingers scraped down her legs. Her own tightness—so wondrous—burst. The whole world burst. If Jack saw colors when he looked at her, she saw white.

Jack kissed her; he drew from her only to kiss her cheek, the corner of her jaw, her feathered throat.

“Tooth,” he said, “Tooth—you’re so amazing—”

“Oh, Jack Frost,” she said, “I want to just _eat_ your smile.”

He laughed and kissed her mouth again. She twined her fingers in his fine hair. His tongue brushed her teeth, shyly, and if she’d thought it unfair how he smiled, now she knew for sure that he was _entirely_ unjust.

“I brought the tooth Bunny knocked out,” Jack said into their kiss. She bit his lip. “That’s why I came. I was going to give it to you.”

“ _Jack_ ,” said Toothiana, and if she weren’t so fantastically loose now she would have burst all over again.

His pale eyelashes drooped. “I don’t know where it is now though.”

“The girls will look for it later,” said Tooth, “now come back here,” and Jack—his smile a long, lean tease like the first snowflake on the tip of her nose—bent to her.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, the porn I've been thinking of for a whole dang year. The weird, weird porn. Another one off the bucket list!
> 
> The title is from "Blow" by Beyoncé. I don't know what else to say about that.
> 
> All right. Uh. OK.
> 
> So, yeah.
> 
> There ya go.


End file.
